


The Servants of the Stranger

by Mountainsidemercy



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dragons, F/M, Romance, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mountainsidemercy/pseuds/Mountainsidemercy
Summary: Working title is "The Servants of the Stranger", which may change later on. Season 7 was AMAZING and I can't believe we'll have to wait until 2019 for the last season. After reading an obsessive amount of fanfic about Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane, I decided to write my version of what happens to them after Season 7. Enjoy!After going north of the Wall, Sandor Clegane is tasked with riding to Winterfell to warn the Stark sisters about the impending danger. There he reunites with Sansa after many years. Without the politics and intrigues of King's Landing, the two are able to speak more freely than they ever had a chance before. Even after all the time that has passed, they are drawn to each other. Though with the army of the dead fast approaching, they may never get the chance to be together.





	The Servants of the Stranger

The Free Folk sprinted down the winding paths of the Wall. In the darkened corridors was a confusion of limbs and torches. They were told the Wall had held for thousands of years, but in a matter of minutes the ice dragon had decimated it. The army of the dead followed quickly after and no one wanted to wanted to face them again unless it was the last resort. Hardhome was the biggest stronghold north of the Wall and the army of the dead had stormed through like it was a carnival. 

Normally they prided themselves on bravery and fearlessness in battle. With the sudden turn of events, the different groups had split apart in chaos. Each one focused on survival more than fighting together. 

As soon as he reached the ground level, Tormund mounted the nearest horse and raced to the sea to warn Jon Snow. The army of the dead had terrified him for months. It had destroyed most of the tribes of the Free Folk and now that they had an ice dragon on their side it made their fight nearly hopeless. The battle would result in the complete destruction of man if they couldn’t get the numbers to fight them in time. 

“Jon Snow! I need to speak with the King of the North!” he shouted from his horse. The guards recognized his bright red hair and let him pass. He arrived at the ship and found Jon Snow at the docks, standing next to the dragon queen, Ser Jorah, and Davos Seaworth among a number of Unsullied soldiers he had not met. 

“What happened to East-Watch-By-the-Sea?” Jon questioned. Tormund appeared disheveled and wild eyed, so different from his regular carefree manner. 

“Gone, completely destroyed. There was no way to save it,” he shook his head and tried to catch his breath, “Dragon queen... they have your...” 

“Viserion died... He fell into the sea...” Daenerys stated coldly. 

“They must have raised him from the water. He’s- well he’s a dragon of ice now, part of the army of the dead.” 

Her face dropped once she realized his meaning and turned to Jon. “They’re able to do that?” she asked. 

“When we were north of the wall, we fought a bear they’d claimed. It maimed Thoros and nearly got the rest of us,” Jon explained, “They appear to be able to claim any living thing once it has died.” 

Ser Jorah placed a hand on her shoulder as Daenerys stared off into the sea without giving much of a reaction. The cold breeze from the ocean blew her long locks and she pulled her fur coat closer to her body. The others waited silently for her reaction. They had heard her refer to the dragons as her children. While she was prepared to grieve the death, the unnatural magic stunned her. Once she got over the initial shock, her stomach twisted in angry knots. The dragons were a gift, born of fire and meant to roam wild with their mother. The thought that such evil magic now claimed her child and ruled him disgusted her. 

“Then they will all burn for this atrocity,” she promised. Jon looked at her through furrowed brows. While the rest waited and appeared lost for words, he wanted wrap his arms around her and tell her they would get revenge. However, as a leader himself, he knew it was not good for a leader to appear weak in front of his army. Especially when they were faced with such poor odds. He would comfort her privately and allow her to grieve when they could spare a minute. 

“We’ll need a plan,” Jon assured, “If they’ve already begun heading south, we’ll need to cut them off.” 

The cold wind picked up more and whipped around them. As small snow flurries began to fall, the group started walking off to the camp the Unsullied had quickly set up. The ship voyage there had not been particularly difficult, but the Dothraki were unused to travel by water. They were sick most of the days and would need to recover before they would be any use again. Jon, Daenerys, and the other leaders would need to review the maps and prepare for the battle ahead as well. The Wall was the greatest defense to the marching army. Now that it was gone, they would have to re strategize and mobilize quicker than intended. 

They entered a large tent that was used as a temporary war cabinet and sleeping quarters for Daenerys. On one side there was a large wooden table with chairs surrounding it and at the other end a bed with velvet blankets fit for the queen. A small fire had been set up in the corner already in preparation for their arrival. Jon stood at the end of the large wooden table, reviewing the map of Westeros. The others sat around the table grateful to be near the fire and waiting for him to begin the discussion. 

“This is your land,” Daenerys started, “Where would you cut them off?” 

“I’m not certain. The Night King is no man. There’s no telling how much he’ll know about our lands. I was hoping we would have more time to prepare and gain more insight of our enemy.” 

“Jon,” Tyrion spoke up, “You know there’s only one castle worth taking in the North. We have to assume the Night King is very old and experienced with destruction. From what you’ve told me, he knew right where to attack the Wildlings and quickly took their cities. He’ll seek out the toughest opponents in the south just the same.” 

Jon understood his meaning, “Winterfell is the first line of defense... It’s the only castle properly equipped within a hundred miles.” 

The others hesitated to speak first. Many of the older soldiers knew it to be true before the words had been spoken. It was well known that Winterfell held the power of the North. While the Westerosi used alliances and politics to summon power before battles, the army of the dead would attack head on, without any mercy. 

“I have to warn my sisters. They’ll need to be ready for our arrival.”

“No, you’re needed here to help with the battle plans and training. You’re one of the few that has directly faced them.” Daenerys countered, “The Unsullied and Dothraki are not used to the cold weather or this type of enemy. They will need to be prepared if we’re to stand a chance.” 

“Then we’ll send someone ahead to warn them,” Jon replied. 

“I can ride there,” Gendry offered, “I’ve met Arya before when we were captured at Harrenhal. I can get her to understand.” 

“You’re not a strong rider,” Jon said, “We’ll need someone to ride as fast as possible, familiar with the terrain. The army is on it’s way south already. They won’t have much time to prepare as it is.” 

“My lord,” Brienne of Tarth spoke up, “I’ve pledged my sword to Lady Stark. I will gladly ride back to inform her of the situation.” 

“Yes, Brienne will ride back at once. The way may be dangerous though. There are still bandits and thieves along the way that could delay your progress. Clegane, will you ride alongside her?” 

Sandor Clegane had kept to himself most of the time around these strangers. He still didn’t fully trust the dragon queen or the king of the north to be better rulers than evil Joffrey or fat drunken Robert Baratheon. Yet after fighting against the of the army of the dead there was little time for distrust. The battle ahead would be for the survival of all men. 

“Is that really necessary?” Brienne, “I’m quite capable of riding to Winterfell with Podrick as I’ve done many times before.” 

“I fully trust you, my lady,” Jon continued, “but this message is too important. The road is too dangerous these days and this message cannot be trusted with a single person. My sisters do not know Podrick well enough should you fall. They may not trust him to speak truth. They will listen to the Hound.” 

“They will?” Sandor asked with disbelief. “I didn’t exactly part on best of terms with either of them.” 

“They’ve both spoken highly of you to me. They will trust you with a message from me.”

“I’ll ride with Brienne of Tarth then,” he agreed. There seemed no reason to argue how ridiculous it was for the Stark girls to trust the Lannisters’ former lackey. Besides, he was curious to see both of them again. It had relieved him to hear that they did not hold any ill will toward him after everything that had happened. He’d committed many crimes in his life without any remorse or second thought. Out of everything he had done in his miserable life, Clegane’s greatest regrets were not being able to defend either of them or bring them home. He had wondered what became of them many times since he last saw them. 

During the past few weeks, there was too much to be done to waste time wallowing in regret. At times, he felt as though the Hound had died on the road long ago. The person still standing was just Sandor Clegane and unlike the Hound he would attempt to do the right thing and be worthy of the second life he was given. 

With a plan of action in place, Sandor followed Brienne and Podrick to the stables to prepare their horses for the ride. They moved quickly as they saddled their horses and collected their weapons. Podrick hurried off to grab some food and bedrolls for the ride in case they needed to make camp for a night or two. Most likely, they would try to ride through the night, but a squire should be well prepared for every scenario. 

“If you fall behind, I will leave you.” Brienne muttered under her breath. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Sandor sighed. 

“If you hurt them, I swear...” 

“I’ve no intention to hurt the Stark girls, either one of them. They’ll be in danger soon enough as it is.” 

“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen them. They’re not little girls anymore. You would do best to remember that when you speak to them,” Brienne warned. 

Brienne, Podrick, and Sandor rode quickly and silently through the snow. The icy winds whipped around them stinging their eyes and hands. If the situation was less severe they would have stopped at inns along the way, but they were already behind schedule so they kept at a fast pace. 

They rode day and night straight through for 2 days only stopping briefly to eat a quick meal and stretch their sore legs. When they had the grey stones of Winterfell in their sights they nearly dropped down from the sheer exhaustion of it all. 

“Open the gates!” Brienne shouted and announced herself. The guards quickly opened the massive wooden doors and let them inside the walls. 

They hopped off their horses and the servants ushered them into the stables. Brienne sped toward the great hall with the Hound close behind her. Podrick went along with the servants to settle in the horses and unpack their belongings. 

Can’t believe I’m at the mercy of the Starks again, Sandor thought bitterly to himself. The last time he had seen Arya and Brienne he had very nearly died. It was pure luck a friendly brother stumbled upon him and nursed him back to life. He assumed he would never be welcome at Winterfell, let alone travel companions with the one who left him for dead. 

It was suppertime as they reached the main hall. Many people were happily eating at chatting at the long wooden tables. Warm candlelight danced around the room, with smells of meat and mead circling the air. A few of the townsfolk noticed their entrance, but most of them had not noticed their arrival at all. There was a bard playing a lute and singing songs as if there were not a care in the world. 

Sandor saw the bright red hair before anything else and exhaled. The room slowed down as he focused on her and he stopped in his tracks for a moment. The dozens of people disappeared and he could only see her shining face as if there was a spotlight on it. 

Sansa looked older than the last time he saw her and even more beautiful than he remembered. While at King’s Landing, she smiled and spoke like a silly girl to appease her tormentors. He’d called her a little bird as she chirped stupid pleasantries to keep her head. Here she sat still as a stone with a goblet of wine in her hand, surveying the room as a lady of her house. Her grey furs were rich and luxurious looking wrapped around her shoulders. Under the warm candlelight, her hair appeared luminous and more aflame than ever. Though she wore no crown, she seemed every inch a queen, daughter of the north, and kissed by fire. 

While he gaped at her vacantly, her eyes quickly locked onto his. He couldn’t make out her reaction. She only seemed to register their entrance, but did not reveal any reaction to it. He thought back to Brienne’s words on their ride together, she was most certainly no longer a little girl. 

He managed to shake himself and caught up to Brienne at the head table. They made quite the entrance, both of them well over 6 feet tall rushing in with melting snow dripping off their coats. After they rushed in down the center aisle, more of the diners noticed their presence and they now muttered in concern. Rumors would start quickly about the two intruders and their message.

“Lady Stark,” Brienne started, “We have some news from the King of the North. Would we be able to speak in private?”

“Of course,” Sansa replied calmly, “Please follow me into the council room.” 

She stood up and headed to the room to the left. Arya and Bran followed her as she made the exit from the room. A servant hurried to light the candles in the room as they sat down around the long rectangular wooden table. The room had a small fire already as if they had been expecting them. 

“How’s Jon?” Arya asked first. 

“Well, my lady. He asked us to ride here as soon as possible to inform you of the events that have passed.” 

The Starks silently listened to Brienne as she went through the details of their travels to catch them up on all that had passed. She informed them of the meeting at King’s Landing, the destruction of the wall, and the new threat of the ice dragon led by the White Walkers. Arya asked occasional follow up questions while Sansa and Bran kept quiet and listened carefully. 

“How many men does the army of the dead have?” Arya asked. 

“I’ve heard them say 100,000. I have not seen them yet myself, but the Hound went north of the wall to capture the wight and bring it to Cersei.” 

He kept his eyes low and fidgeted with his sleeves pulling them down on his wrists. 

“I don’t want to frighten you,” he started. 

“Speak true,” Sansa replied, “We’ll find out once they’ve arrived at our doorstep.” 

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he admitted, “They are entirely fearless. They stop at nothing. If you cut off their legs, they use their hands and crawl. If you cut off their arms, they use their teeth.”

“Are they skilled warriors?” 

“No, an army of corpses controlled by a few captains. If you cut down the captain, then the rest of those he turned fall with him.” 

“Then we should attack those first,” Arya replied. 

“Aye, though the highest ranking are often far behind the field of battle while the pawns are sent to the slaughter.” 

“And Jon means to have the battle here at Winterfell?” Sansa asked him. 

“Yes or an open field nearby, they’ve already moved past the Wall. Winterfell is next stronghold to conquer. Jon Snow and the Targaryen are on their way here marching west from the sea. Cersei’s army marches north as well to fight alongside us.”

“Very well, we’ll begin preparations at first light tomorrow. I’ll summon the knights of the Vale and the other houses. Then finish preparations for the winter. Brienne and the Hound will train the soldiers. Arya, begin warning the villagers nearby and instruct them how to best protect themselves with fire and dragonglass. Bran, please let us know anything of importance on their history that could help us win.” 

Everyone took their instructions and started to head out of the door. 

“Hound, please stay. I have a few additional questions for you privately.” 

“Shall I stay?” Brienne offered. 

“No need, I’ll be fine,” she dismissed her. 

Brienne hesitated by the door for a moment before heading out and closing the door behind her. Sansa stood and used the iron poker to raise the fire more. Then stood by the fireplace and stared into the flames. 

“Did you want to ask me something?” Sandor asked. He grew uncomfortable sitting there in the dark with her. The Little Bird from King’s Landing he knew well, but the Lady Stark was unfamiliar to him. 

“Yes... Cersei agreed to help us in the battle against the army of the dead?” 

“Aye, Brienne spoke true about the meeting in the south. She has pledged to help us now, that we’ll remember it later on down the road.” 

“And Jon believes her?” she turned around. Her icy blue eyes bore into him searching for any possible lie. 

“The Imp believes her and Jon trusts him,” he replied plainly. 

“You know what she’s like... She’ll never bow to the Dragon Queen and will cut Winterfell at the heels once our defenses are down and our people dead.” 

“I would expect so...” 

“Jon will need to be convinced of her intentions. He’s so honorable, just like father. He won’t understand the extent of her deceit. Will you explain to him?” 

“Wouldn’t it fare better coming from you?” 

“I’ll always be his sweet little sister. He won’t take battle strategy from me. He wouldn’t at the Battle of the Bastards. I called on the Vale to save us.” 

“You did? That isn’t what I heard,” he smiled and relaxed back into his seat. She smiled back as well. The first reaction he had seen from her. 

“Battles aren’t won by ladies as you know. They’re won by knights and kings.” 

“Fuck the knights and fuck the kings! If I make it out of this I never want to see another battle as long as I live.” 

“I thought killing was the ‘sweetest thing there is’,?” she quoted his words to him. 

“Bitter words for a bitter man,” he grumbled. 

“Indeed. Do you believe peace will come from the reign of a Targaryen and fire breathing dragons?” 

“Aye, she’s the best chance I’ve seen so far. Her people are loyal to the death. She saved your brother and me when hope was lost north of the wall. Risked her life and lost one of the dragons to our cause. That’s when Snow bent the knee.”

She sat down across from him and looked at his face, reviewing his scars by the light from the fireplace, no longer afraid of the fearsome warrior. He fidgeted again under her cool gaze unable to joke or shout as easily as before. Though she had been polite, her expression seemed remote and icy still. 

“Not afraid to look anymore, Little Bird?” 

“I’ve seen far worse now. The world is full of killers. You were right about that,” she replied. 

A silence hung in the air after she spoke. Sandor had heard bits and pieces of her story from other people. He imagined the complete tale would be far worse. They usually were much worse when told from the first hand account. 

“I, um, I want to thank you for looking after me in King’s Landing. I don’t think I would have survived for long without you there.”

 

Her face softened at the memory and her brow furrowed remembering the past. When she looked at his face, different flashes passed through her mind. A river on fire, a song, a white cloak covered in blood. 

He scoffed, “I did nothing. The Lannister’s hound doing their bidding. I’m not a knight or a hero. You don’t need to thank-“ 

“Stop! You don’t need to bark at me. There’s nothing to prove here. I know what you did and I shall always be grateful to you.”

“From stories I’ve heard, I failed to keep you safe from anything, or your sister for that matter.” He looked cautiously at her, trying to figure out what possible angle she could have. 

“Trying and failing is more than anyone else ever attempted. My experience has taught me that well. Northerners are different: We speak plainly. For your assistance to me in King’s Landing and protecting my sister and helping my brother north of the wall, you will always have a home in Winterfell.”

“That’s not necessary, I was going to find an inn nearby-” 

“No, as long as you’re here you will stay with me and my family as an honored guest. As long as Winterfell stands, you will always be welcome at my table, ser.”

“I’m not a-“

“I meant what I said,” she cut him off before he could contradict her words. 

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak yet nothing came out. It wasn’t often he was lost for words. He feared his voice would crack if he spoke again and betray his emotions. Every fantasy he had played in his head about seeing her again fell short. Her thanks and welcome lifted a dark cloud that hung over him. His regrets melted away as surely as the snow would melt again in springtime. 

“I’ll show you to your room,” she stood from the table. He followed her in silence down the hall toward the guest rooms. The great hall had cleared out and the servants were busy clearing the tables of the plates and glasses. His stomach growled at the sight of the food as he noticed a mostly complete leg of turkey leftover. 

“I’ll have dinner sent to you shortly,” she smiled when she heard noise. 

They reached the end of the hall and she opened a wide wooden door. Inside was a large freshly made bed, a wardrobe and a few other essentials. Compared to King’s Landing it would be considered spartan yet to the Hound it looked like paradise after months on the road and the brutal ride they had taken to get here. 

“Thank you Lady Stark,” he muttered. 

“Please call me Sansa,” she smiled at him. His spine felt like it would fall out and drop to the floor. 

“Not in public?” he assumed. 

“Whenever you like...”

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter! 
> 
> There are a lot of fanfics about young King's Landing Sansa that portray her as kind of dumb and ditzy. They also portray the Hound as somewhat abusive toward her. She doesn't seem to notice or care and responds affectionately, which MAKES NO SENSE TO ME. 
> 
> In my version, he recognizes her as an adult/someone in power and wouldn't speak to her the same way anymore. Removed from the toxic environment of King's Landing, they would both have the opportunity to be more themselves. Sansa a bit more assertive and Sandor a bit more relaxed. Personally I would love for the show to have some kind of reunion in the next season. Now that everyone is back in the North, it doesn't seem too out of the question anymore.
> 
> I've written fanfiction before on other sites, but this is the first one on this site and first one in a long long time. If you're going to comment please be nice :) I'm doing this as a hobby and am not an expert on the books. I've only read the first one so far. I've enjoyed reading everyone's fics so much and thought I would add to the obsession-um-collection!


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